


amongst ash and rubble

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sort of? - Freeform, i cant even call this a fic because its so short, i was right!!! just...wrong death, i wrote this in a frenzy before 8x04 but forgot to post it, mad queen!dany, post 8x04, turns out the ending of this ficlet is pretty accurate, yeah anyway i needed to get this off my chest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 20:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18746092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jorah’s skin turned to ice by the time the sun rose over the horizon. Dany closed his unseeing eyes, didn’t want them looking at the frozen Northern skies. The ruins of Winterfell surrounding them.





	amongst ash and rubble

Jorah’s skin turned to ice by the time the sun rose over the horizon. Dany closed his unseeing eyes, didn’t want them looking at the frozen Northern skies. The ruins of Winterfell surrounding them.

She stopped crying ages ago, but her lungs still ached from her sobs. Her head was heavy, her muscles screamed from exertion. Even holding Jorah in her arms was an effort.

Her grief turned sour. Tainted with anger, as it always did, but for now—more than anything—she wished she was far away from Westeros.

She wished she could awaken in the blistering heat of Qarth or Meereen or even Pentos, with Illyrio’s grating voice and the sweet scent of honeyed chicken and peppers filling her nose. She wished for nights sprinkled with stars and the swell of the son she never knew, ever quickening in her womb. 

Drogon’s warm, endless breaths, and the weight of his wings and his body curled around her did nothing to stomp it out. The longer she looked around her, at the endless Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers and took in the smell of their rotting bodies, the hatred only seemed to boil her. Boil her from the inside out and turn her blood to steam.

She hated the North. She hated the harsh winters. She hated Westeros and Cersei Lannister. She hated Winterfell and the Starks. Lady Sansa and Bran and Arya and the rest of the lot she couldn’t bother remembering.

More than anything, she hated Jon Snow.

_Like anyone else_ , she thought. _He used me to get what he needed, and now he has it._

The Long Night ended before it began. Thousands of her men dead in the matter of hours, and for what? For the Starks to thank her for her assistance and send her on her way?

It couldn’t be that simple.

No, she would rise up above him, above everyone who rallied behind him, and crush their skulls beneath her feet.

Hatred was a raging fire, and Daenerys Targaryen burned with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos is appreciated :)


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